Page 221 of Salvatore

“A little help here,” Hunter mutters.

I rush toward him but Decker beats me to it. “He’s talking to me, tiger.” He braces Salvatore around the chest while Hunter works on the remaining shackle.

“Remember me,mi bella reina.” Salvatore’s eyes find mine, his lashes barely lifting between blinks.

“Don’t talk like that.” My voice breaks. “Not now. You need to keep fighting.”

He tilts his face to Decker. “Take care of her.”

“Don’t worry.” Decker winks. “If you don’t do as she asks, I’ll make sure someone takesrealgood care of her.”

Salvatore cringes. “Asshole.”

Decker snickers. “That’s the spirit. Keep it up until we can get you to a doctor.”

But there’s no fight left. Salvatore’s eyes roll. His head lolls.

“Salvatore.” I struggle to get between the two men holding him up. “Salvatore, stay with me.”

More footsteps approach. Rushed. Turbulent.

Remy and Matthew burst into the bunker. Bishop and Cole are a beat behind them. They stop in the doorway, faces slackening, suits wrinkled, guns idle at their sides.

“Help him,” I cry.

“Fuck.” Remy runs for us, Matthew and Bishop hot on his heels.

“Is he still breathing?” Cole asks, pulling out his phone.

I’m about to say yes when Decker speaks. “Not anymore.”

“What?” I turn back to Salvatore, his body slack, his eyes closed.

Hunter and Decker drag him away from me, placing him on the floor. Limp. Lifeless.

“Do something,” I beg.

Remy falls to his knees beside his brother, placing two fingers to Salvatore’s neck before looking up at Matthew. “There’s no pulse.”

47

IVY

In lovingmemory of a beloved brother and born leader.

It is with profound sadness that we announce the untimely passing of a man whose strength, loyalty, and unwavering dedication defined his life. A steadfast protector and a constant source of guidance, he was a figure whose presence will be deeply missed but whose legacy will endure.

His life was one of fierce devotion—to his siblings, those he held dear, and to the ideals he believed in.

He faced every challenge with resilience and an unyielding sense of purpose, leaving an indelible mark on all who were privileged to truly know him.

His absence leaves an irreplaceable void, but his memory remains a beacon of courage, sacrifice, and resilience. A private memorial service will be held at a later date to honor his life and celebrate the impact he had on so many.

I swallow against heartbreak and hand the roughly scribbled death notice back to Abri.

“Do you think it’s okay?” she asks.

I nod, my nose scrunched in restrained emotion. “You did a good job.” I don’t have the strength to offer her convincing praise. I’m too exhausted. Too caught up in my own head.

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